CHAPTER XI. THE ARREST
It had come, and I saw no way of escape. The sergeant was between usand I could not strike him. And I found no words. A score of times Ihad thought with shrinking how I should reveal my secret toMademoiselle--what I should say, and how she would take it; but in mymind it had been always a voluntary act, this disclosure, it had beenalways I who unmasked myself and she who listened--alone; and in thisvoluntariness and this privacy there had been something which took fromthe shame of anticipation. But here--here was no voluntary act onmy part, no privacy, nothing but shame. And I stood mute, convicted,speechless, under her eyes--like the thing I was.
Yet if anything could have braced me it was Mademoiselle's voice whenshe answered him.
'Go on, Monsieur,' she said calmly, 'you will have done the sooner.'
'You do not believe me?' he replied. 'Then, I say, look at him! Look athim! If ever shame--'
'Monsieur,' she said abruptly--she did not look at me, 'I am ashamed ofmyself.'
'But you don't hear me,' the Lieutenant rejoined hotly. 'His very nameis not his own! He is not Barthe at all. He is Berault, the gambler, theduellist, the bully; whom if you--'
Again she interrupted him.
'I know it,' she said coldly. 'I know it all; and if you have nothingmore to tell me, go, Monsieur. Go!' she continued in a tone of infinitescorn. 'Be satisfied, that you have earned my contempt as well as myabhorrence.'
He looked for a moment taken aback. Then,--
'Ay, but I have more,' he cried, his voice stubbornly triumphant.
'I forgot that you would think little of that. I forgot that a swordsmanhas always the ladies' hearts---but I have more. Do you know, too, thathe is in the Cardinal's pay? Do you know that he is here on the sameerrand which brings us here--to arrest M. de Cocheforet? Do you knowthat while we go about the business openly and in soldier fashion, itis his part to worm himself into your confidence, to sneak into Madame'sintimacy, to listen at your door, to follow your footsteps, to hang onyour lips, to track you--track you until you betray yourselves and theman? Do you know this, and that all his sympathy is a lie,Mademoiselle? His help, so much bait to catch the secret? His aimblood-money--blood-money? Why, MORBLEU!' the Lieutenant continued,pointing his finger at me, and so carried away by passion, so liftedout of himself by wrath and indignation, that I shrank before him--'youtalk, lady, of contempt and abhorrence in the same breath with me, butwhat have you for him--what have you for him--the spy, the informer, thehired traitor? And if you doubt me, if you want evidence, look at him.Only look at him, I say.'
And he might say it; for I stood silent still, cowering and despairing,white with rage and hate. But Mademoiselle did not look. She gazedstraight at the Lieutenant.
'Have you done?' she said.
'Done?' he stammered; her words, her air, bringing him to earth again.'Done? Yes, if you believe me.'
'I do not,' she answered proudly. 'If that be all, be satisfied,Monsieur. I do not believe you.'
'Then tell me this,' he retorted, after a moment of stunned surprise.'Answer me this! Why, if he was not on our side, do you think that welet him remain here? Why did we suffer him to stay in a suspected house,bullying us, annoying us, thwarting us, taking your part from hour tohour?'
'He has a sword, Monsieur,' she answered with fine contempt.
'MILLE DIABLES!' he cried, snapping his fingers in a rage. 'That forhis sword! It was because he held the Cardinal's commission, I tell you,because he had equal authority with us. Because we had no choice.'
'And that being so, Monsieur, why are you now betraying him?' she asked.He swore at that, feeling the stroke go home.
'You must be mad!' he said, glaring at her. 'Cannot you see that the manis what I tell you? Look at him! Look at him, I say! Listen to him! Hashe a word to say for himself?'
Still she did not look.
'It is late,' she replied coldly. 'And I am not very well. If you havedone, quite done--perhaps, you will leave me, Monsieur.'
'MON DIEU! he exclaimed, shrugging his shoulders, and grinding his teethin impotent rage. You are mad! I have told you the truth, and you willnot believe it. Well--on your head be it then, Mademoiselle. I have nomore to say! You will see.'
And with that, without more, fairly conquered by her staunchness, hesaluted her, gave the word to the sergeant, turned and went down thepath.
The sergeant went after him, the lanthorn swaying in his hand. And wetwo were left alone. The frogs were croaking in the pool, a bat flewround in circles; the house, the garden, all lay quiet under thedarkness, as on the night which I first came to it.
And would to Heaven I had never come that was the cry in my heart. Wouldto Heaven I had never seen this woman, whose nobleness and faith were acontinual shame to me; a reproach branding me every hour I stood in herpresence with all vile and hateful names. The man just gone, coarse,low-bred, brutal soldier as he was, manflogger and drilling-block, hadyet found heart to feel my baseness, and words in which to denounce it.What, then, would she say, when the truth came home to her? What shapeshould I take in her eyes then? How should I be remembered through allthe years then?
Then? But now? What was she thinking now, at this moment as she stoodsilent and absorbed near the stone seat, a shadowy figure with faceturned from me? Was she recalling the man's words, fitting them to thefacts and the past, adding this and that circumstance? Was she, thoughshe had rebuffed him in the body, collating, now he was gone, all thathe had said, and out of these scraps piecing together the damning truth?Was she, for all that she had said, beginning to see me as I was? Thethought tortured me. I could brook uncertainty no longer. I went nearerto her and touched her sleeve.
'Mademoiselle,' I said in a voice which sounded hoarse and unnaturaleven in my own ears, 'do you believe this of me?'
She started violently, and turned.
'Pardon, Monsieur!' she murmured, passing her hand over her brow; 'I hadforgotten that you were here. Do I believe what?'
'What that man said of me,' I muttered.
'That!' she exclaimed. And then she stood a moment gazing at me in astrange fashion. 'Do I believe that, Monsieur? But come, come!' shecontinued impetuously. 'Come, and I will show you if I believe it. Butnot here.'
She turned as she spoke, and led the way on the instant into the housethrough the parlour door, which stood half open. The room inside waspitch dark, but she took me fearlessly by the hand and led me quicklythrough it, and along the passage, until we came to the cheerfullighted hall, where a great fire burned on the hearth. All traces of thesoldiers' occupation had been swept away. But the room was empty.
She led me to the fire, and there in the full light, no longer a shadowycreature, but red-lipped, brilliant, throbbing with life and beauty,she stood opposite me--her eyes shining, her colour high, her breastheaving.
'Do I believe it?' she said in a thrilling voice. 'I will tell you. M.de Cocheforet's hiding-place is in the hut behind the fern-stack, twofurlongs beyond the village on the road to Auch. You know now what noone else knows, he and I and Madame excepted. You hold in your hands hislife and my honour; and you know also, M. de Berault, whether I believethat tale.'
'My God!' I cried. And I stood looking at her until something of thehorror in my eyes crept into hers, and she shuddered and stepped backfrom me.
'What is it? What is it?' she whispered, clasping her hands. And withall the colour gone suddenly from her cheeks she peered trembling intothe corners and towards the door. 'There is no one here.'
I forced myself to speak, though I was trembling all over like a man inan ague. 'No, Mademoiselle, there is no one here,' I muttered. 'Thereis no one here.' And then I let my head fall on my breast, and I stoodbefore her, the statue of despair. Had she felt a grain of suspicion, agrain of doubt, my bearing must have opened her eyes; but her mind wascast in so noble a mould that, having once thought ill of me and beenconverted, she could feel no doubt again. She must trust all in all.A little recovered from her fright, she stood
looking at me in greatwonder; and at last she had a thought--
'You are not well?' she said suddenly. 'It is your old wound, Monsieur.Now I have it?'
'Yes, Mademoiselle,' I muttered faintly, 'it is.'
'I will call Clon!' she cried impetuously. And then, with a sob: 'Ah!poor Clon! He is gone. But there is still Louis. I will call him and hewill get you something.'
She was gone from the room before I could stop her, and I stood leaningagainst the table possessor at last of the secret which I had come sofar to win; able in a moment to open the door and go out into the night,and make use of it--and yet the most unhappy of men. The sweat stoodon my brow; my eyes wandered round the room; I turned towards the door,with some mad thought of flight--of flight from her, from the house,from everything; and I had actually taken a step towards this, when onthe door, the outer door, there came a sudden hurried knocking whichjarred every nerve in my body. I started, and stopped. I stood a momentin the middle of the floor gazing at the door, as at a ghost. Then,glad of action, glad of anything that might relieve the tension of myfeelings, I strode to it and pulled it sharply open.
On the threshold, his flushed face lit up by the light behind me,stood one of the knaves whom I had brought with me to Auch. He had beenrunning, and panted heavily; but he had kept his wits, and the instantI, appeared he grasped my sleeve.
'Ah! Monsieur, the very man!' he cried. 'Quick! come this instant,lose not a moment, and you may yet be first. They have the secret! Thesoldiers have found Monsieur!'
'Found him?' I echoed. 'M. de Cocheforet?'
'No; but they know the place where he lies. It was found by accident.The Lieutenant was gathering his men when I came away. If we are quick,we may yet be first.'
'But the place?' I said.
'I could not hear,' he answered bluntly. 'We must hang on their skirts,and at the last moment strike in. It is the only way, Monsieur.'
The pair of pistols I had taken from the shock-headed man lay on a chestby the door. Without waiting for more I snatched them up and my hat, andjoined him, and in a moment we were running down the garden. I lookedback once before we passed the gate, and I saw the light streamingout through the door which. I had left open; and I fancied that for aninstant a figure darkened the gap. But the fancy only strengthened theone single purpose, the iron resolve, which had taken possession of meand all my thoughts. I must be first; I must anticipate the Lieutenant;I must make the arrest myself. I must be first. And I ran on only thefaster.
We were across the meadow and in the wood in a moment. There, instead ofkeeping along the common path, I boldly singled out--my senses seemed tobe preternaturally keen--the smaller trail by which Clon had broughtus. Along this I ran unfalteringly, avoiding logs and pitfalls as byinstinct, and following all its turns and twists, until we came to theback of the inn, and could hear the murmur of subdued voices in thevillage street, the sharp low word of command, and the clink of weapons;and could see over and between the houses the dull glare of lanthornsand torches.
I grasped my man's arm, and crouched down listening. When I had heardenough, 'Where is your mate?' I said in his ear.
'With them,' he muttered.
'Then come,' I whispered rising. 'I have seen what I want. Let us go.'
But he caught me by the arm and detained me.
'You don't know the way,' he said. 'Steady, steady, Monsieur. You gotoo fast. They are just moving. Let us join them, and strike in when thetime comes. We must let them guide us.'
'Fool!' I said, shaking off his hand. 'I tell you, I know where he is! Iknow where they are going. Come, and we will pluck the fruit while theyare on the road to it.'
His only answer was an exclamation of surprise. At that moment thelights began to move. The Lieutenant was starting. The moon was not yetup, the sky was grey and cloudy; to advance where we were was to stepinto a wall of blackness. But we had lost too much already, and I didnot hesitate. Bidding my companion follow me and use his legs, I sprangthrough a low fence which rose before us; then stumbling blindly oversome broken ground in the rear of the houses, I came with a fall ortwo to a little watercourse with steep sides. Through this I plungedrecklessly and up the farther side, and, breathless and panting,gained the road, beyond the village, and fifty yards in advance of theLieutenant's troop.
They had only two lanthorns burning, and we were beyond the circle oflight cast by these; while the steady tramp of so many footsteps coveredthe noise we made. We were in no danger of being noticed, and in atwinkling we turned our backs, and as fast as we could we ran down theroad. Fortunately, they were thinking more of secrecy than speed, and ina minute we had doubled the distance between them and us. In two minutestheir lights were mere sparks shining in the gloom behind us. We losteven the tramp of their feet. Then I began to look out and go moreslowly, peering into the shadows on either side for the fernstack.
On one hand the hill rose steeply, on the other it fell away to thestream. On neither side was close wood, or my difficulties had beenimmensely increased; but scattered oak trees stood here and there amongthe bracken. This helped me, and presently, on the upper side, I cameupon the dense substance of the stack looming black against the lighterhill.
My heart beat fast, but it was no time for thought. Bidding the man ina whisper to follow me and be ready to back me up, I climbed the banksoftly, and, with a pistol in my hand, felt my way to the rear ofthe stack, thinking to find a hut there, set against the fern, and M.Cocheforet in it. But I found no hut. There was none; and, moreover, itwas so dark now we were off the road, that it came upon me suddenly,as I stood between the hill and the stack, that I had undertaken a verydifficult thing. The hut behind the fern stack. But how far behind? howfar from it? The dark slope stretched above us, infinite, immeasurableshrouded in night. To begin to climb it in search of a tiny hut,possibly well hidden and hard to find in daylight, seemed an endeavouras hopeless as to meet with the needle in the hay! And now while Istood, chilled and doubting, almost despairing, the steps of the troopin the road began to grow audible, began to come nearer.
'Well, Monsieur le Capitaine?' the man beside me muttered--in wonder whyI stood. 'Which way? or they will be before us yet.'
I tried to think, to reason it out; to consider where the hut should be;while the wind sighed through the oaks, and here and there I could hearan acorn fall. But the thing pressed too close on me; my thoughts wouldnot be hurried, and at last I said at a venture,--
'Up the hill. Straight up from the stack.'
He did not demur, and we plunged at the ascent, knee-deep in bracken andfurze, sweating at every pore with our exertions, and hearing the troopcome every moment nearer on the road below. Doubtless they knew exactlywhither to go! Forced to stop and take breath when we had scrambled upfifty yards or so, I saw their lanthorns shining like moving glow-worms;I could even hear the clink of steel. For all I could tell, the hutmight be down there, and we be moving from it. But it was too late to goback now--they were close to the fern-stack; and in despair I turnedto the hill again. A dozen steps and I stumbled. I rose and plunged onagain; again stumbled. Then I found that I was treading level earth.And--was it water I saw before me, below me? or some mirage of the sky?
Neither; and I gripped my fellow's arm, as he came abreast of me, andstopped him sharply. Below us in the middle of a steep hollow, a pit inthe hill-side, a light shone out through some aperture and quivered onthe mist, like the pale lamp of a moorland hobgoblin. It made itselfvisible, displaying nothing else; a wisp of light in the bottom of ablack bowl. Yet my spirits rose with a great bound at sight of it; for Iknew that I had stumbled on the place I sought.
In the common run of things I should have weighed my next stepcarefully, and gone about it slowly. But here was no place for thought,nor room for delay; and I slid down the side of the hollow on theinstant, and the moment my feet touched the bottom sprang to the door ofthe little hut, whence the light issued. A stone turned under my feetin my rush, and I fell on my knees on the threshold; but th
e fall onlybrought my face to a level with the face of the man who lay inside ona bed of fern. He had been reading. Startled by the sound I made, hedropped his book, and in a flash stretched out his hand for a weapon.But the muzzle of my pistol covered him, he was not in a posture fromwhich he could spring, and at a sharp word from me he dropped his hand;the tigerish glare which flickered for an instant in his eyes gave placeto a languid smile, and he shrugged his shoulders.
'EH BIEN!,' he said with marvellous composure. 'Taken at last! Well, Iwas tired of it.'
'You are my prisoner, M. de Cocheforet,' I answered. 'Move a hand and Ikill you. But you have still a choice.'
'Truly?' he said, raising his eyebrows.
'Yes. My orders are to take you to Paris alive or dead. Give me yourparole that you will make no attempt to escape, and you shall go thitherat your ease and as a gentleman. Refuse, and I shall disarm and bindyou, and you go as a prisoner.'
'What force have you?' he asked curtly. He still lay on his elbow, hiscloak covering him, the little Marot in which he had been reading closeto his hand. But his quick black eyes, which looked the keener for thepallor and thinness of his face, roved ceaselessly over me, probed thedarkness behind me, took note of everything.
'Enough to compel you, Monsieur,' I replied sternly; 'but that is notall. There are thirty dragoons coming up the hill to secure you, andthey will make you no such offer. Surrender to me before they come, andgive me your parole, and I will do all I can for your comfort. Delay,and you must fall into their hands. There can be no escape.'
'You will take my word?' he said slowly.
'Give it, and you may keep your pistols, M. de Cocheforet.'
'Tell me at least that you are not alone.'
'I am not alone.'
'Then I give it,' he said with a sigh. 'And for Heaven's sake get mesomething to eat and a bed. I am tired of this pig-sty. MON DIEU! it isa fortnight since I slept between sheets.'
'You shall sleep to-night in your own house, if you please,' I answeredhurriedly. 'But here they come. Be good enough to stay where you are fora moment, and I will meet them.'
I stepped out into the darkness, just as the Lieutenant, after postinghis men round the hollow, slid down with a couple of sergeants to makethe arrest. The place round the open door was pitch-dark. He had notespied my man, who had lodged himself in the deepest shadow of the hut,and when he saw me come out across the light he took me forCocheforet. In a twinkling he thrust a pistol into my face, and criedtriumphantly,--'You are my prisoner!' while one of the sergeants raiseda lanthorn and threw its light into my eyes.
'What folly is this?' I said savagely.
The Lieutenant's jaw fell, and he stood for a moment paralysed withastonishment. Less than an hour before he had left me at the Chateau.Thence he had come hither with the briefest delay; yet he found me herebefore him. He swore fearfully, his face black, his moustachios stiffwith rage.
'What is this? What is it?' he cried. 'Where is the man?'
'What man?' I said.
'This Cocheforet!' he roared, carried away by his passion. 'Don't lie tome! He is here, and I will have him!'
'You are too late,' I said, watching him heedfully. 'M. de Cocheforet ishere, but he has already surrendered to me, and is my prisoner.'
'Your prisoner?'
'Certainly!' I answered, facing the man with all the harshness I couldmuster. 'I have arrested him by virtue of the Cardinal's commissiongranted to me. And by virtue of the same I shall keep him.'
'You will keep him?'
'I shall!'
He stared at me for a moment, utterly aghast; the picture of defeat.Then on a sudden I saw his face lighten with, a new idea.
'It is a d--d ruse!' he shouted, brandishing his pistol like a madman.'It is a cheat and a fraud! By God! you have no commission! I seethrough it! I see through it all! You have come here, and you havehocussed us! You are of their side, and this is your last shift to savehim!'
'What folly is this?' I said contemptuously.
'No folly at all,' he answered, perfect conviction in his tone. 'Youhave played upon us. You have fooled us. But I see through it now. Anhour ago I exposed you to that fine Madame at the house there, and Ithought it a marvel that she did not believe me. I thought it a marvelthat she did not see through you, when you stood there before her,confounded, tongue-tied, a rogue convicted. But I understand now. Sheknew you. She was in the plot, and you were in the plot, and I, whothought that I was opening her eyes, was the only one fooled. But itis my turn now. You have played a bold part and a clever one,' hecontinued, a sinister light in his little eyes,' and I congratulate you.But it is at an end now, Monsieur. You took us in finely with your talkof Monseigneur, and his commission and your commission, and the rest.But I am not to be blinded any longer--or bullied. You have arrestedhim, have you? You have arrested him. Well, by G--, I shall arrest him,and I shall arrest you too.'
'You are mad!' I said staggered as much by this new view of the matteras by his perfect certainty. 'Mad, Lieutenant.'
'I was,' he snarled. 'But I am sane now. I was mad when you imposed uponus, when you persuaded me to think that you were fooling the women toget the secret out of them, while all the time you were sheltering them,protecting them, aiding them, and hiding him--then I was mad. But notnow. However, I ask your pardon. I thought you the cleverest sneak andthe dirtiest hound Heaven ever made. I find you are cleverer than Ithought, and an honest traitor. Your pardon.'
One of the men, who stood about the rim of the bowl above us, laughed. Ilooked at the Lieutenant and could willingly have killed him.
'MON DIEU!' I said--and I was so furious in my turn that I couldscarcely speak. 'Do you say that I am an impostor--that I do not holdthe Cardinal's commission?'
'I do say that,' he answered coolly.
'And that I belong to the rebel party?'
'I do,' he replied in the same tone. 'In fact,' with a grin, 'I say thatyou are an honest man on the wrong side, M. de Berault. And you say thatyou are a scoundrel on the right. The advantage, however, is with me,and I shall back my opinion by arresting you.'
A ripple of coarse laughter ran round the hollow. The sergeant who heldthe lanthorn grinned, and a trooper at a distance called out of thedarkness 'A BON CHAT BON RAT!' This brought a fresh burst of laughter,while I stood speechless, confounded by the stubbornness, the crassness,the insolence of the man. 'You fool!' I cried at last, 'you fool!' Andthen M. de Cocheforet, who had come out of the hut and taken his standat my elbow, interrupted me.
'Pardon me one moment,' he said, airily, looking at the Lieutenant withraised eyebrows and pointing to me with his thumb, 'but I am puzzledbetween you. This gentleman's name? Is it de Berault or de Barthe?'
'I am M. de Berault,' I said, brusquely, answering for myself.
'Of Paris?'
'Yes, Monsieur, of Paris.'
'You are not, then, the gentleman who has been honouring my poor housewith his presence?'
'Oh, yes!' the Lieutenant struck in, grinning. 'He is that gentleman,too.'
'But I thought--I understood that that was M. de Barthe!'
'I am M. de Barthe, also,' I retorted impatiently. 'What of that,Monsieur? It was my mother's name. I took it when I came down here.'
'To--er--to arrest me, may I ask?'
'Yes,' I said, doggedly; 'to arrest you. What of that?'
'Nothing,' he replied slowly and with a steady look at me--a look Icould not meet. 'Except that, had I known this before, M. de Berault Ishould have thought longer before I surrendered to you.'
The Lieutenant laughed, and I felt my cheek burn; but I affected tosee nothing, and turned to him again. 'Now, Monsieur,' I said, 'are yousatisfied?'
'No,' he answered? 'I am not! You two may have rehearsed this prettyscene a dozen times. The word, it seems to me, is--Quick march, back toquarters.'
At length I found myself driven to play my last card; much against mywill.
'Not so,' I said. 'I have my commission.'
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p; 'Produce it!' he replied incredulously.
'Do you think that I carry it with me?' I cried in scorn. 'Do you thinkthat when I came here, alone, and not with fifty dragoons at my back, Icarried the Cardinal's seal in my pocket for the first lackey to find.But you shall have it. Where is that knave of mine?'
The words were scarcely out of my mouth before a ready hand thrust apaper into my fingers. I opened it slowly, glanced at it, and amid apause of surprise gave it to the Lieutenant. He looked for a momentconfounded. Then, with a last instinct of suspicion, he bade thesergeant hold up the lanthorn; and by its light he proceeded to spellthrough the document.
'Umph!' he ejaculated with an ugly look when he had come to the end, 'Isee.' And he read it aloud:--
'BY THESE PRESENTS, I COMMAND AND EMPOWER GILLES DE BERAULT, SIER DE BERAULT, TO SEEK FOR, HOLD, AND ARREST, AND DELIVER TO THE GOVERNOR OF THE BASTILLE THE BODY OF HENRI DE COCHEFORET, AND TO DO ALL ACTS AND THINGS AS SHALL BE NECESSARY TO EFFECT SUCH ARREST AND DELIVERY, FOR WHICH THESE SHALL BE HIS WARRANT. (Signed) THE CARDINAL DE RICHELIEU.'
When he had done--he read the signature with a peculiarintonation--someone said softly, 'VIVE LE ROI!' and there was a moment'ssilence. The sergeant lowered his lanthorn. 'Is it enough?' I saidhoarsely, glaring from face to face.
The Lieutenant bowed stiffly.
'For me?' he said. 'Quite, Monsieur. I beg your pardon again. I findthat my first impressions were the correct ones. Sergeant! give thegentleman his papers!' and, turning his shoulder rudely, he tossed thecommission to the sergeant, who gave it to me, grinning.
I knew that the clown would not fight, and he had his men round him; andI had no choice but to swallow the insult. I put the paper in my breast,with as much indifference as I could assume; and as I did so, he gave asharp order. The troopers began to form on the edge above; the men whohad descended to climb the bank again.
As the group behind him began to open and melt away, I caught sight ofa white robe in the middle of it. The next moment, appearing with asuddenness which was like a blow on the cheek to me, Mademoiselle deCocheforet glided forward towards me. She had a hood on her head, drawnlow; and for a moment I could not see her face, I forgot her brother'spresence at my elbow, I forgot other things, and, from habit and impulserather than calculation, I took a step forward to meet her; though mytongue cleaved to the roof of my mouth, and I was dumb and trembling.
But she recoiled with such a look of white hate, of staring, frozen-eyedabhorrence, that I stepped back as if she had indeed struck me. It didnot need the words which accompanied the look--the 'DO NOT TOUCH ME!'which she hissed at me as she drew her skirts together--to drive me tothe farther edge of the hollow; where I stood with clenched teeth, andnails driven into the flesh, while she hung, sobbing tearless sobs, onher brother's neck.